


A Small Victory

by caradoxing (saunteredvaguelydownward)



Series: Molly Amell [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunteredvaguelydownward/pseuds/caradoxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A turning point in Molly Amell's time at the Circle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Small Victory

She flinches as the glass shatters, a surge of regret rushes through her before settling heavy in her chest. If the Templars hear, no doubt they will not go easy on her. Not after the countless incidences she has caused, though she makes no apologies for any of them. However, as much as she hates them, giving them any more excuse to hurt her was hardly a smart idea.

To be fair, if she had been able to get a hold of a knife, this would not be necessary.

Molly tosses cloth aside that had protected her knuckles and picks up one of the larger shards of glass, examining it carefully. It is sharp and jagged, but there is something captivating about it. A sense of danger she had long missed, she supposes. Almost reflexively, her hand tightens around the piece until a small pain blooms in her palm.

A part of her does not blame them, the countless who had chosen death over this hell. 

Another part of her envies them.

But perhaps biggest of all, the last part of her hates them. If they had not done so, no doubt the Templars would have less excuse to be cruel. Without their existence, maybe her own in the Circle would not have been so unbearable.

She laughs quietly to herself, doubting it.

With a deep breath, she pulls at tight the long, dirty blonde hair that sits at her shoulders. Her father’s hair, she remembers with a pang of anger. She had wavered before, when thinking about this moment. But when she remembers her father’s emotionless face as he watched his eldest daughter was dragged off, kicking and screaming, she can feel her determination renewed. 

It is only when she lifts the glass, placing it against her bunched up hair, that she realizes her hands are trembling. _Rebellion always comes at a cost_ , her mother once told her. It was a fact she knows well enough by now. She glances down at the remnants of the vanity mirror and can see the truth plain as day reflected back in her glinting green eyes.

_If freedom must come at a cost, it is a price I will always be willing to pay._

With a stroke of her wrist, she can feel the tug against her scalp as part of the bulk of her hair falls away. A petty thing, she thinks, to be disappointed it doesn't all come in one. With a few more chops at it, the last of the tresses float to the ground and the world feels lighter. With one last excited breath, she checks her reflection against the shard in her hand, wanting the clearest view.

It is awkward and uneven but she feels a smirk cross her lips all the same.

When the Templars find her, with their angry voices and condescending glares, she welcomes their punishment. Though it is a small victory, she is, just for a moment, invincible.

 _A small victory is still a victory_ , she thinks. _And the world belongs to the victors._


End file.
